Being You, Being Me
by ghostfireninja
Summary: A collection of one-shots on the lives of intergalactic princess Star Butterfly, and her earthling partner, Marco Diaz. As well as those around them.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Star vs The Forces of Evil.**

 **-o0o-**

 **When I drank the prized orange juice he kept in the fridge.**

So here is the story of that time when Marco basically did not talk to me for one whole night. It's not like we talk much at all at some nights, though. He usually stays in his room to do breathing exercises or smash some wood or sleep with his mouth open or listen to his music in the highest volume possible. Or occasionally he's out in the living room to watch this cartoon he's obsessed with, something he has probably dedicated his life into since he was seven, for he does this thing when he says the lines of the characters without missing a single word. I, on the other hand, am usually also in my room answering my parents calls in the mirror, redecorating walls without trying to burn the entire house, marveling at the beauty of earth, eating sandwich in bed, or trying to keep myself from using my magic wand with usually everything I do because that always ends up with me dragging Marco into all sorts of trouble.

On that particular evening, I came home earlier than him because while we were on our way home, little kid Jeremy, Marco's mortal enemy, challenged him to a simple duel of karate. This, he cannot back down with because the last time he did, the little brat kicked him on the butt and he fell face first on Jackie Lynn Thomas's feet. That sort of thing embarrasses Marco to a great extent because he is very very into Jackie Lynn Thomas. They used to only nod at each other every morning, but lately they've gotten into this "talking" term. Marco usually only manages a single word though. He gets lost after the "hi," or "hey," or "Jackie." But anyways, it was progress. So, back to Jeremy. I was about to give Marco a helping hand, or I say, wand, in teaching the kid a lesson but he insisted I go home. He was positive showing his cool side to Jacqueline, who was just somewhere nearby at that moment, could result to more progress. Though I'm not quite sure if beating up a kid younger than him would make him look cool. I wished Marco good luck and left.

So when I came home, I was really really thirsty. I realized walking home alone without anyone to talk to is a lot more tiring than walking with Marco and spending the time talking about how my day went through, in detail, even if we were in fact, classmates. Do not ask me why I feel more tired in walking alone than when I'm walking and talking. I don't understand either. But anyways, I went directly to the fridge as soon as I came home. There was all this water inside, but then there was also this carton of juice lying handsomely in the middle of all those containers of transparent liquid. I hear this voice in my head, some sort of chant. It goes like "Marco's Super Tempting Orange Juice". There's this annoying tune with it, though I don't know why I hear it. So without thinking I grabbed the thing from the fridge and gulped it down on one go.

When Marco came home, I asked him about how the fight went, and he was suddenly telling me all about it with fits of punching and kicking movements. He's so ecstatic, he doesn't even take a breath in between words. Perhaps the fight went good. And judging from the looks in his eyes and the sound of his voice, he probably got Jackie's attention. So he rumbled on and on about things and then he got to the part when he received a juice from Jackie the day before. And then I panicked.

After a few tries of preventing him from going into the kitchen, fetching water for him as he watched his favorite cartoon in the living room, he eventually figured out that I drank the prized orange juice Jackie Lynn Thomas gave to him. He stared at me for so long while I talked to him, endlessly without pausing, about how sorry I am and about how he was voted as the safest kid in school, and about how kind he is for letting me stay in their house, etcetera. I followed him without stopping in my apologies as he stood up from his chair, went into his room and slammed the door in my face. I stopped talking then. I stared at his door. Then I knocked my arms wildly. "Marco!" I did that for about five times before finally giving up.

At dinner I tried to meet his eyes but he just stared blankly in space while chewing on his food. He finished eating fast. He went directly to his room. I went into my room also and I was devastated because I didn't know what to do. I've planned a lot of things in my head to make peace with him but all of those fantasies end up with him being angrier than before. I also remembered there was this homework we had in math and not even my magic spells could help me with it. Usually we do it together, because Marco is smarter, and he is always a great help . But I couldn't even talk to him so I didn't know what to do. I tried doing the homework by myself, but by the time I got to the third question I knew I was going to give up eventually. I ran to Marco's room and knocked and knocked, but he was listening to his loud music. Either that or he was ignoring me. The latter was more convincing.

I went back to my room, eventually, and without even thinking about it, I fell asleep. The night went poof, just like that. When morning came, I didn't know if I was dreaming or not. Marco was on my room, squatting on the floor, his arms on my low table, and pillowing his resting face. He was asleep. There. On my room. Perhaps I was seeing wrong. There was something blocking 80% of my vision, after all. There was a piece of paper stuck on my forehead. Written on it was a note. It said:

"Haha! Hey there, Star! Good morning. I'm sorry for last night. I ignored you the whole time. So to make it up, I made your homework. I'm apologizing because I made you look bad. And I was enjoying it. I'm really sorry. Really.

PS. The juice Jackie gave me was grape, not orange. It's still in the fridge. I actually bought that orange one for you.

PPS. Both your answers in numbers 1 and 2 are wrong. It was a good idea you stopped at 3.

PPPS. Good night! Don't hit me first thing in the morning tomorrow. Please."

I felt relieved but I was also angry after I've done reading it. But Marco is so peaceful when he slept. I grabbed some markers then. Drawing on his face isn't considered hitting, right?

Such was the story of Marco Diaz and the orange juice in the fridge.


End file.
